


In Which Marianne Cries Actual Tears Over Cake

by SilverSie



Series: Strange Magic Week 2016 [2]
Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cake Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Strange Magic Week 2016, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7838323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverSie/pseuds/SilverSie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a tiny drabble from my Cake Shop AU, the gist of which is this: Marianne Summers is a heavily tattooed, punk rock baker who is hardcore about cake. Bog King is a tall, scarred, equally tattooed, terrifying Scot who is addicted to sugar. Naturally, they fall in love. Mostly because cake.</p><p>For Strange Magic Week Day 2: Wedding / Arranged Marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Marianne Cries Actual Tears Over Cake

“What do you _mean_ I _can’t make my own fucking wedding cake?_ ”

It was a month before the wedding– _a fucking month_ – when Dawn decides to drop this bombshell on Marianne. Marianne, who now has the attention of the whole restaurant by way of raising her voice and slamming her hands on the table. Dawn, to her credit, is completely unaffected and this leaves Bog to only raise an eyebrow at the surprised and curious stares. Sunny gives them a cheeky wave when they still don’t avert their eyes and finally they’re left with relative privacy. At least until Marianne starts yelling.

Bog was mostly just eating his strawberry ice cream (with sliced strawberries and whipped cream, if you please) and only half paying attention to the conversation. He really couldn’t give a fuck which of the girls makes the cake because it was going to be good either way, but he’s still baffled by how Marianne can raise her voice (or look even vaguely sternly) at her younger, chipper sister, and _equally_ baffled by Dawn who simply looks like she’s discussing the color of rainbows.

“Cause,“ she replies in between happily munching on her waffle cone, "I’m gonna make it. And you’ll be busy with other stuff.”

"Like fuck I will! The cake is the most important thing!“

"It’s true,” Bog says sagely, around a mouthful of whipped cream. Sunny makes a face like he might just agree, but like hell he was gonna say a damn  _word_. He really hated conflict within their little group, _especially_ between the girls.

"Marianne,“ Dawn articulates slowly in that way that makes a chill run down Bog’s spine because she can be _scary_ when she wants to be, "If you step one foot in the shop the _whole week_ before the wedding, I’m changing the locks and you won’t come back to work for a _month_.” She takes a large bite out of her cone with finality.

Marianne’s brows meet her hairline, and both of the guys have similar expressions. “This is unbelievable. I can’t believe this. I never should have let you have half of mom’s business.”

"Well, you didn’t have a choice, _so…_ “

Marianne grumbles because she knows she’s lost. "You better make this up to me, Dawn.”

"Oh, I wouldn’t worry about _that_.“

 

* * *

 

Fast forward a month, and yeah, Marianne is _still_ pissed about it, but maybe a little less so, because she trusts her sister as far as she can throw her (which, excuse you, is really far) and Dawn had promised Marianne that she could make the cake when it comes time for Dawn and Sunny’s wedding. A fair trade.

That doesn’t stop her from chewing on her lip minutes before Dawn reveals the cake (yeah, it has to be a whole _thing_ , and Bog wished they would get it over with so he could eat it already). "It better be good.”

He nudges her, “You said you wouldn’t worry.” His arm winds around her because he can’t help himself and she’s gorgeous (always is) and his hand fits perfectly in the dip of the bodice, cinched and red. She pinches his arm for his teasing. “I’m just glad you both agreed to serve milk at our wedding.” (Dessert is a _travesty_ otherwise.)

"Come on, Bog, we’re not _barbaric_.“ She leans casually into him, clinking their wine glasses, only to straighten when the doors leading to the kitchen open and her head snaps around so fast her hairpins almost fly out, and he was pretty sure they were superglued in there.

Dawn was supervising the three girls from the shop wheeling out a cart (they were control freaks when it came to cake, if that wasn’t obvious), topped with a box, hiding what one could safely assume was the cake. He half expected the cart to also be part of the cake. They’d done crazier things.

Dawn had the girls lift the box away before Marianne ran over and ripped it off herself, and what was revealed drew many _oohs_ and _ahhs_ out of the wedding party. A simple and elegant three layer cake, off-white icing looking like cream cheese frosting (he’s willing to bet his suit jacket that it’s red velvet), and each level lined with blackberries interspersed with small white flowers, Dawn’s signature lacy piping decorating the sides. And there was a blackberry-drizzle dripping down the sides that Bog thought looked like blood, so that was pretty cool. The whole thing was sprinkled with white chocolate shavings, and all in all fit them perfectly.

Marianne _squealed_ in the way she only does when looking at pictures of baby ducklings or when someone does something really, truly wonderful for her, and Dawn beamed. The two sisters met in a tight hug and there were many, loud, ‘thank you thank you THANK YOU I LOVE YOU SO MUCH’s and yeah, this is exactly how he imagined it would go down, so that’s good.

They part and then it’s like a switch flipped and suddenly Marianne’s eyes got  _watery_ and Bog’s face got visibly paler. She’d cried once or twice during the day (once when she saw her dad holding a picture of her mom so she could see her baby girl get married, and again when Bog’s mother came over for a hug and she had done the same damn thing with a picture of his dad, and then they both were crying and Bog had never felt more panic in his _life_ ) but this was totally different. Bog knew what this was about.

"Dawn,” she sighs, “ _Dawn_. It’s _perfect_.”

"You’re welcome,“ the ever-cheery sister replies, "I knew _exactly_ what I wanted to– wait, are you crying? Wow, you must _really_ be emotio–” The lightbulb in her head dings and she stops dead and Bog straightens, while Marianne tries her damnedest not to cry (it wasn’t working), even if her makeup _is_ cry-proof.

Dawn looks to Bog first, and all he can say is, “Um.” She then looks to Marianne’s wine, suddenly noticing it’s a _suspiciously darker shade_ next to Bog’s. She snatches it from Marianne’s hand and takes a drink, while Marianne presses her lips together. “Dawn–”

"Grape juice,“ Dawn interrupts, handing her glass back. And then she screams.

And _that_ was how _literally everyone_ Bog and Marianne Summers-King knew, discovered that Marianne was having a baby.


End file.
